Taking the Consequences
by EtichaErix
Summary: Harry Potter is back in Privet Drive after a terrible year at school. Everything's just like it always been. Harry's not allowed to send Hedwig with a letter and Dudley's got something very fishy going on...
1. Taking the Consequences

The moonlight shone over the lawns of Privet Drive and waltzed in through a window on the second floor in Number Four, Privet Drive. With a moan, Harry Potter let "Quidditch through the Ages" fall out of his hand and land with a soft thud on the bedspread. Harry had a splendid headache, and felt so miserable that not even the thought of Quidditch could cheer him up. It was in the middle of the night, and he was lying on his bed, still wearing his clothes. The pyjamas lay thrown on the floor.

When Harry turned his head to the right, causing a great deal of pain, he looked out through the opened window out in the dark of the night, catching sight of the full moon in the sky. Another look to the right and he saw the time on the luminous alarm clock on his bedside table. The red numbers showed 3.58. He let out another moan and got out of bed. He had been reading his book since the old day turned into a new, meaning since midnight. Now he started to wonder if it would matter if he was sleeping or not.

It was the summer after Harry's fifth year at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He was still feeling rather bad after what had happened on the Ministry of Magic before the school ended for the summer, and now he devoted his time to ignoring Dudley Dursley's idiotic comments. If last summer had been tough, this was worse.

If someone had told him last summer what was going to happen to him during his fifth year at Hogwarts, he would have smiled and said that nothing could be worse than the Triwizard Tournament; the Hungarian Horntail in the first task that caused such problems, not to forget the egg and the lake in the second task. And the third task in the maze – the one that Harry still thought was the worst of them all. He couldn't get it out of his head; if he hadn't told Cedric to take the Triwizard Cup, Cedric would probably still be alive, and he wouldn't have messed this up with Cho, or done everything like he had done. And also, he would have thought that even staying at Privet Drive was a smaller dead.

Sometimes he wondered if Ron hadn't been right, because what if, the third task had been done in May, and Cedric had been murdered by Lord Voldemort then? Harry would have been forced to be at Hogwarts for a month before going home, and then everyone would have seen how he felt about it. He wasn't dancing, that was for sure.

But at the same time, Harry wished that he hadn't been in the Triwizard Tournament at all. The fact that he had been, was because Alastor "Mad – Eye" Moody had put his name in the Goblet of Fire. No, not Moody, but Bartemius Crouch Junior. As a Death Eater he had been trying to come back to Voldemort by giving him his enemy on a plate.

In fact, it must have been too bad for Lord Voldemort that both he and Moody had failed. Because, obviously, Harry was still alive. Even if it didn't feel like it.

Harry's thoughts had wandered away with him, and being thrown back into reality, was not pleasant. Once again, he thought of Sirius, and the way he had died.

"Oh, it's useless," he muttered and throw himself at the bed, landing on something hard. "Ouch!" Turning around, rubbing his back, he picked up a book. It was one of his books, "Quidditch through the Ages" by Kennilworthy Whisp. He opened the book, and watched the players zoom around a Quidditch pitch on their brooms once more. He wanted to fly so much that it hurt. He jumped to his feet, opened his wardrobe and took out his Firebolt, which Sirius had bought to him during his third year at Hogwarts. A little tear trickled its way down his cheek. He put the Firebolt back in the wardrobe.

Slowly walking back to his bed, a stubborn little thought grew in Harry's mind. He was going to contact Ron Weasley, he was sure that Ron would invite him to the Burrow.

"Hedwig," he said with a soft voice, and woke the owl up. Hedwig looked at him, a bit sourly, and Harry stroke her feathers to make her feel better.

"Hedwig, do you feel up for a journey?" Harry said, and opened the cage. The owl fluttered out and landed on his outstretched hand. She hooted firmly and stretched out her leg.

"Hang on, I haven't written it yet." He let her go, and grabbed a quill on his bedside table and went to the desk for some parchment. He dipped the quill in an ink bottle and wrote hastily:

_Ron, I'm turning mad in this place. I would rather be in Grimmauld Place than here. If I don't get away from here, I'll kill myself, and I'm serious. I cannot stand another week here in Privet Drive, the Dursleys are a complete nightmare – I actually think that they know about Sirius being dead, cause they have treated me as if I wasn't worth a single penny. I don't have anything to live for if I don't come to friends._

_Ron, either save me, or send a curse or even better, send me a Hungarian Horntail to kill me. I swear that I will give you my Firebolt if I die._

_Harry_

He attached the parchment to Hedwig's leg and watched her take off. He knew that Ron would either save him, or – well, he didn't have much of a choice, did he? Harry had been serious; he was going to kill himself if he didn't get away from Privet Drive. He had his wand, and he knew _Adava Kedavra_, the killing curse, it was the same one Lord Voldemort had used to kill his parents, Cedric Diggory and many more. It was one of the unforgivable curses. One of the most horrible curses you could perform as a wizard. Magic in its darkest form.

He sat down on his bed, sitting straight up, watching the full moon, and then he fell backwards on his back. The pain in his head seemed to have spread its way down his body, because now he felt as though he was going to throw up. He looked up in the ceiling, hearing Dudley's snores on the other side of the wall. Suddenly he just simply hated his cousin.

He tried to go to sleep, but failed. A sleepless night lay before him. Again.

A couple of days passed, and Hedwig didn't return. Harry's stomach lurched every time he heard a soft hoot or the sound of wings outside his window. He hadn't left the house for at least a week, and he started to feel like a bat – a bat that didn't liked the sun. Very normal for a bat, of course, but not for a sixteen year old boy. Aunt Petunia had pushed small amounts of food on a tray through the gap in the door. Harry had barely touched it. He had gone to the bathroom on the mornings and evenings, and every time he had avoided looking into the mirror. But on day number five when he woke up, he saw Hedwig sit in her cage. She hooted softly when he scrambled out of bed and to his desk.

"Hedwig!" he said, stroking her feathers. "Do you have a letter for me?" The owl stretched out her leg and Harry quickly ripped off the piece of parchment and opened it. It was from Ron.

_Harry, don't worry, mate, we'll come and get you. Probably this week. I don't know how, but I'm sure that mum and dad have a few suggestions. Hermione's already here, she came a couple of days ago, both she and mum wailed when Ginny read your letter aloud. Hang in there, mate, and don't let them get to you._

_Ron_

Feeling utterly relieved, Harry quickly wrote a reply.

_Thanks Ron. I don't know what I would have done without you. Hopefully seeing you soon. Say hi to Hermione and your family from me._

_Harry_

The reply was lying there in front of him. The snowy white owl hooted softly and spread out her wings to keep herself on her feet. Harry suddenly laughed.

"Good girl, Hedwig. Do you still want to take of with this to Ron, or do you want some food before you're going?" He didn't really need an answer, so he picked up some food from the tray aunt Petunia had given him last night and placed it in her bowl. Hedwig ate it, looking rather pleasant with herself, and then she reached out her left leg. Harry quickly tied the letter onto her leg, and stroke her feathers once more.

"Thanks, Hedwig," he mumbled. "I'll be here when you arrive."

After he had watched her take off, he put changed shirt and put on a pair of socks, the one he had got from Dobby the house elf. They looked a bit silly; since they were two different kinds, but Harry felt so up that he didn't bother.

Walking down the stairs and into the kitchen, Harry whistled on the melody of the summer's most played song on the Muggle radio. He whistled all the way through the kitchen, and sat down at his place by the kitchen table.

Uncle Vernon, a very large man with hardly any neck, but a very large moustache, looked up from his newspaper, looking very sourly.

"Stop the whistling," he grunted. "I'm trying to read." He looked down again, trying to focus on the paper. Obviously he failed, because he looked up again and said:

"What are you doing here? I thought that you were living your life in despair upstairs." Harry didn't look at his uncle.

"Thought I'd come down and see what you were up to," he said. Uncle Vernon stared at him.

"But..." he said, and, loosing his temper, he suddenly yelled:

"Cut your hair, for crying out loud!" Harry grinned.

"Why, uncle Vernon? I really can't see any use to it."

Harry wanted to make uncle Vernon feel insecure, because then he could do something.

Aunt Petunia looked at him and snorted, but didn't say a word. Dudley, taking up an entire side of the square table by himself, was heading for his forth plate of egg and bacon; but now he looked up and said loud and clear:

"You've been sending letters again." Harry closed his eyes, shutting out the image of uncle Vernon's furious face, and wished Dudley far away.

"You've been sending letters, have you?" uncle Vernon growled. "For how long?" When Harry didn't answer, he turned to Dudley.

"For how long, Dudkins?" Dudley, now being sixteen years old, just like Harry, shuddered when he heard the nickname his parents used. His own friends said "Big D" most of the time.

"Don't know," he said, his eyes fixed at the television on the kitchen bench. "A while."

"Only twice!" Harry burst out. Uncle Vernon raised an eyebrow, being very calm considering the consequences.

"Oh really?" he said, "only twice?"

"And what if the neighbours saw anything!" Aunt Petunia shrieked, eyeing Harry with horror upon her face. "They'll wonder, you know, if that owl keeps flying in and out of your window. Don't forget that you're going to St Brutus's."

Harry frowned a bit.

"And?" he said. "They don't care." Uncle Vernon stared at him.

"Oh yes, they very much do!" The beginning of a row was hanging like an unfinished sentence in the air, very clear to everyone present in the room, but just as Harry got to his feet, the doorbell rang.

"I'll take it!" Dudley yelled, and got to his feet, speeding his way through the kitchen, the hall and finally reaching the door. He opened it and Harry, standing in the stair on his way up to the second floor, suddenly saw Dudley's cheek turn red. Fascinated, Harry watched his cousin's face grow redder and redder, until Dudley looked as though he was going to burst.


	2. The Opening of the Door

Opening the door, Dudley stood there, looked first red, and then went as pearly white as one of the Hogwarts ghosts. Harry had a hard time not to laugh. Outside the door, stood Mrs Figg. She was wearing an emerald-green robe, and she looked very annoyed.

"Hello, Dudley. Is Harry home?" she said, but her eyes kept searching for Harry. Harry came down the stairs, since she didn't seem to be seeing him, and said, "Good morning, Mrs Figg. How are you?"

Mrs Figg looked at him for a moment, her eyes narrowed, and then she said, "Where's your wand, boy? Haven't I told you to never put it down?"

Uncle Vernon, who was just looking out from the kitchen, almost fell to the floor when he heard what Mrs Figg said. And then, when he saw what she was wearing, he actually did fall to the floor. His chin nearly touched his chest. The newspaper he had had in his hand fell to the floor with the Sports Illustrated facing the ceiling.

"Oh, hello Vernon", Arabella Figg said, and walked straight into the living room. Dudley, helping his father up, stared at Harry and Mrs Figg in amusement.

"What the bloody hell…?" uncle Vernon began, but Mrs Figg stopped him.

"No, Vernon, there is absolutely no time for that. Harry, I need to speak with you." Aunt Petunia, who had heard uncle Vernon swearing and Mrs Figg's voice, came out into the living room.

"Hello, Arabella", she said, sounding both amazed, and a bit worried. "How are you?"

"I have to talk to you and Harry, Petunia Dursley." Arabella Figg's eyes were black as they landed on aunt Petunia.

"About what?" Harry said abruptly, taking a step forward. "What is it this time?" The old neighbour glanced quickly at him, before turning to Petunia again. Her robe fluttered.

"It's about the Order of the Phoenix", she said. "And about the death of James and Lily Potter fifteen years ago."

The world started to whirl around Harry. He heard aunt Petunia gasp.

Trying to get hold of himself, or more likely, the whole situation, Harry stumbled across the living room and sank down in an armchair. He felt hot, like all his blood had rushed up to his face and then stayed there. He hid his face in his hands. Mrs Figg looked sternly at aunt Petunia and waved a hand against her.

"Sit down, Petunia, we have a lot to discuss." Harry looked up, suddenly his mind was clear.

"Won't this get you into trouble, Mrs Figg? I mean, with the Wizengamot and all…"

"No, Harry, Dumbledore – " aunt Petunia flinched when she heard the Headmaster's name – "has talked to them, and this is perfectly fine. Since your mother was a first class witch, Petunia will have no problems adjusting. Isn't that right, Petunia?"

Aunt Petunia threw a quick glance at uncle Vernon and Dudley, who both looked stunned.

"Yes, that's… that's right", she mumbled.

Harry could hardly believe his eyes. After admitting that her sister, Lily, had been a witch, aunt Petunia suddenly became even more nervous.

"Is this really necessary, Mrs Figg?" he said. "I mean…"

"Harry, this is information that both you and your aunt needs to hear. So be quiet."

"But what about… what about Vernon and Dudley?" Petunia said with a shrill voice. "They can't hear this!"

"No, you're right, Petunia. Vernon, Dudley, please go out in the kitchen and stay there. This is not for you to hear." Uncle Vernon's face became redder and redder.

"This is my house!" he growled. "What do you mean with 'this is not for you to hear'!"

"Vernon", aunt Petunia said and raised an eyebrow. "Please do as we ask you to."

Uncle Vernon grunted, but went back to the kitchen, with Dudley in one hand and the newspaper in the other. "C'mon, Duds", he said. "Obviously, we're not wanted here."

"I do hope that you have a very good reason for this!" Aunt Petunia said angrily, but her voice was shrill. Harry knew that she was afraid. Her eyes darted back and forth, made Harry feel almost sick.

Mrs Figg's eyes narrowed as she turned to Harry.

"Harry James Potter, wizard and student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, son to James and Lily Potter, by blood connected to Petunia Dursley through your mother Lily Potter Evans, from this day, you are now a member of the Order of the Phoenix. You have the right to remain silent. Everything you say, can and will be used against you in the Wizengamot in case of trial."

Harry stared at Mrs Figg. Despite the fact that she just had said all that without taking a breath once, he simply couldn't believe a word. Used against him in the Wizengamot? Member of the Order? Aunt Petunia looked at their neighbour, as though she thought the old woman had gone mad. And perhaps she was, Harry thought, when he heard what Arabella Figg said next.

"Petunia Dursley Evans, Muggle and wife to Vernon Dursley, by blood connected to Harry Potter through your sister Lily Potter Evans, from this day, you are now a member of the Order of the Phoenix. You have the right to remain silent. Everything you say, can and will be used against you in the Wizengamot in case of trial. Since you are the only Muggle connected with the Order in the war against You-know-Who and his Death eaters, you will be given a wand; a connection to the Floo Network and you will be given some magic on undecided time. This must be held strictly quiet, as no-one are allowed to know that you from this day and forth now are a witch."


End file.
